


you drew stars (around my scars)

by firrehearrt



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, Sarah J. Maas
Genre: ACOMAF AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Mating Bond, Nightmares, Oneshot, chapter 38, kind of, nightmare scene, not really fluffy actually but eh, sad lil bat boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:01:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27980451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firrehearrt/pseuds/firrehearrt
Summary: An imagining of Chapter 38 of ACOMAF where Feyre realizes she and Rhys are mates as she helps him through the nightmare.
Relationships: Feyre Archeron/Rhysand
Comments: 5
Kudos: 83





	you drew stars (around my scars)

**Author's Note:**

> ahhh HI acotar fandom on ao3!! This is my first feysand fic, born out of middle of the night wonderings, written in the light of day. 
> 
> This is unbeta'ed and unedited so I'm certain it's riddled with errors. 
> 
> I'm on twitter [here](https://twitter.com/firrehearrt) if you'd like to scream with me
> 
> Title is from Cardigan by Taylor Swift

She patted the bed, feeling sheets and blankets and down and then-

_Mate. Mate, mate, mate, my mate, my mate, my mate._

And honestly, _what the fuck_. 

Feyre came in here to check on Rhys, and without warning she’s being bombarded with this innate knowledge. _Her’s, her’s, her’s._

She shakes it off, as the dark envelops her once again.

  
“ _Rhysand!_ ”

The darkness swirls, terror streaking through her and in her and of her. 

Just as quick, Feyre throws herself onto the bed, scrambling towards him. 

_Mate, mate, mate_ , an ominous chant in the back of her head. 

He’s freezing, as she grabs at him, that cauldron damned voice in the back of her head begging her to help him, save her mate. 

There’s no response, as her heart tears in two, tears streaking down her face, and where did those come from and _is he okay is he okay is he okay?_

Desperate for some sign of life, she slides her hand up his chest, up his neck and there. Breath, frozen as ice, but _there_. 

_Alive, alive, alive_. 

Her hands go to his shoulders again, begging him to wake up as she screams his name into nothing. 

_Wake up, wake up, wake up_. 

The terror from the other side of the bond multiplies, and _the bond_. Feyre tugs on it, pulling with every bit of strength she has. 

_Rhys, Rhys, Rhys._

_Mate, mate, mate._

_Wake up._

Feyre slumps, at a loss, and all of the sudden-

Hands bear down on her shoulders, a heavy weight over her, a hand at her throat. She’s pinned, and yet relief floods her. 

_Awake, awake, awake._

Oh so tenderly, her hand flies to the one around her throat, soothing rea shooting down the bond, soothing assurances. 

_You’re okay, Rhys. It was just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream._

Something inside her snaps, and without a second thought, her darkness shoots out, enveloping his own. Lullabies whispered to the other, and ever so slowly, his own retracts. 

His eyes blink, slowly, and he moves his hand away from her as awareness shoots back to those wide eyes, colored with heartbreak. 

A beat, and then “Feyre.” She says. “I’m Feyre.” Jagged breaths escape from his mouth, even now. “It was a dream. You’re okay, Rhys.”

With the sound of his name, he collapses next to me. 

Still, his darkness persists, so she continues to rock her own through it, an echo of the words uttered. 

Mate, mate, mate, that wretched curse still booming in her mind. Quickly, she checks that her own shields are intact. 

Feyre sits up next to him, ready to coach his breathing, and dear god-

He’s naked. 

Still, she persists, eyes not daring lower than his chest. She runs a hand down his face, careful not to scare him. He leans into it, miraculously. 

_Mate, mate, mate._

“Deep breaths, Rhys. You’re okay. It was just a dream.”

“A dream,” he repeats. She nodes, running her hand down his face again, and she could swear warmth moves through her hand as she touches him. 

_Mate, mate, mate._

“Feyre.” A reassurance to himself as another sigh heaves through him. 

“Yes.”

And then, and then nothing. For minutes, things are still, his darkness contracting with each breath, until it’s gone, and the room is clear again. Slowly, he sits up, wings slumped behind him, the talons that escaped still there. 

That beast that he despises, moments away from slipping out. 

How long would it have gone on if she hadn’t come? How often does this happen? How often does he face those same demons as her, if not _worse_. Alone, aching, broken. 

_Mate, mate, mate_. The chanting takes a different form this time, a hint of melancholy to it, something inside her wanting nothing more than to take him in her arms and whisper that it’ll be alright. 

Whisper the things she had once wanted whispered to her, as she heaved up the contents of her stomach, night after cauldron damned night. 

What a pair they must make. 

“You were having a nightmare,” she starts, not sure of her place anymore, and yet, surer than she’s ever been. Her darkness still floats throughout the room, somehow calming, clouds of starlight and hope and dreams. With a thought, it vanishes. 

_Beautiful._

Rhys slumps impossibly lower, the talons disappearing. 

“I’m sorry.” The words of a defeated male. Without a second thought, Feyre shakes her head, taking his hand, enveloping it in hers. 

A hint of confusion from the other side of the bond, and then he melts into it. 

“That’s why you’re staying here, not at the House. You don’t want the others to see.” The words aren’t an accusation, more a gentle explanation, to herself.

“I normally keep it contained to my room. I’m sorry I woke you.”

 _Yours, yours, yours_ , the bond chants. 

It’s right, really. He’s the same broken that she is, knows the darkness that takes root and chokes and begs. Her heart shatters at the thought. 

“How often does it happen?” He dares a glance at her then, those eyes full of so much. 

She knows the answer before he speaks, “As much as you.”

A painful swallow, “What did you dream of tonight?”

His eyes slide down again, defeat overtaking him as he shakes his head. “There are memories from Under the Mountain, Feyre, that are best left unshared. Even with you.”

 _Whore_ . _Traitor. Monster._

If at all possible, her heart shatters more. 

For a moment she takes him in, the name of the painting overtaking the chants in her head. _A Fallen Prince_. 

“Can I-can I stay here tonight?”

Surprise down the bond, as the words slip out. Too late to take back now. He nods, quickly moving to grab and throw on a pair of pants. He collapses beside her, no energy left to keep up some useless appearance.

And then-

She throws her arms around him. His scent surrounds her, hers, him. For a blessed moment, things feel right. 

_Mate, mate, mate_. 

Neither of them feel the nightmares for the rest of the night. 


End file.
